Charming Christmas Read Online Free PDF

of store employees were assessing performers and making final cuts with all the glamour of a tap-dance recital.
    A selection committee sat at another makeshift table, eyeing me with all the levity of the Olympic figure skating judges. I smiled, figuring I had an edge here. How many former Rockettes auditioned to be Mrs. Claus at Rossman’s Department Store?
    The committee wanted to see me try on a Santa cap. They wanted me to sing a few Christmas carols (not my strong point; there was a reason I chose dance, but I can carry a tune). They wanted to see one of the Rockettes’ signature eye-high kicks.
    I was happy to oblige, relieved that my leg had healed to the point where I could land a few graceful kicks. They seemed to be impressed when I threw in a few anecdotes about sharing a Manhattan apartment with two other Rockettes and winging it when the airline lost my luggage during last year’s North American tour.
    Within half an hour the audition was over, the verdict still undetermined “though I have a really great feeling they’ll choose you,” said Charley, the personnel clerk who had first processed my application.
    â€œI hope so,” I said, thinking of my dwindling bank account, my rent payment, my copays for physical therapy, my credit-card debt that was going to make Christmas shopping treacherous, all that bobbing and weaving to avoid clanging into the credit limit.
    Charley assured me the committee would make its decisions by tomorrow and all Christmas players would be called in the following day to begin training. They would have to, with these ambitious plans for Santaland, including musical productions, skaters, sleigh rides for children. He spoke so fast some of the details flew by me, but it was clear that Rossman’s was planning a festive debut in the Christmas shopping arena.
    â€œCan we see the space that will be used for Toyland?” ZZ asked as we were both getting ready to leave at the same time.
    â€œI wish.” Charley rolled his eyes. “We can’t even get into our offices until tomorrow, something about building inspections, but that’ll all be settled by the time you report in.”
    â€œOkay, then. Till Wednesday.” ZZ stood tall, saluted Charley, then headed out.
    I walked a few paces behind him, not really eager to catch up and strike up a conversation. But when he paused at the door to hold it for me, I hurried ahead.
    â€œYou seem confident about getting this job,” I said.
    â€œIf it’s not here, it’s somewhere else. I’ve played Santa for the past twelve years, five of those years at Rossman’s Miami. ’Tis the season, Red. Or maybe I should call you Rocky, huh? For the next two months, I’m a hot commodity.” He looked me up and down as we stepped out into the winter sun. “You ever played Mrs. Claus before?”
    â€œOnstage.”
    He nodded knowingly.
    â€œWhy? Do you think I’ll be good at it?”
    â€œDo you like kids?”
    I hadn’t really thought about that. The truth was, I didn’t really know any kids, had no reason to like or dislike them, though when I spotted families with screamers in airport lounges I always crossed my fingers in hopes that I’d be far, far away from them on the plane. The closest I’d come in the past few years was giving autographs to children who waited outside the stage door at Radio City. And I always helped Bobby pick out gifts for his nieces and nephews.
    ZZ snorted. “I take that as a no.”
    â€œIt’s not me, it’s them,” I said. “Kids don’t like me for some reason. I don’t know why.”
    â€œI’d think about that one,” he said, heading over to the curb where a shiny, decked-out Harley was parked. ZZ reached over the bike and unclipped a helmet.
    â€œYou’re kidding me. That’s yours?”
    â€œNeed a lift?”
    I folded my arms across my chest. “Yeah, but